His Separation from Wesley, About the Period of His Return to London, 1741

On his return to England, Mr. Whitefield was called to meet a dispensation eminently afflictive to a heart, whose very life was fervent and all-circling love — separation from his spiritual coadjutor and guide. No single chapter of his history was probably so fraught with incidents painful to be thought of, even to the last day of his life. While Whitefield and Wesley were each alike absorbed in the work of saving a perishing world; while the hearts of both yearned with insatiable longings for the restoration of men to bliss; they each, with their native and habitual intensity of character, attributed the utmost importance to what was felt to be the best modns ojjerajidi, the proper manner and means of conversion. They doubtless, as a matter of fact, both held that regeneration could be affected by divine interposition alone on the one hand; and, on the other, that it could never be made manifest but through human actings and strivings, or in any manner take place without them. It so happened, however, that they each viewed the subject in one relation only, and thus they soon found themselves pursuing opposite directions in the formation of their theological systems: Mr Whitefield viewing man chiefly in his condition of dependence upon God for salvation; and Mr. Wesley looking at him mainly as a responsible and guilty being. In short, Mr. Wesley became an Arminian and Mr. Whitefield a Calvinist.

Nevertheless, up to this period their difierences had not become sufficiently mature and distinct to lead to a breach. But now conscience impelled each to assert doctrines, which, as understood by the other, were not only wrong, but so monstrous as to forbid all fellowship; and the following narrative and correspondence shows the process which consummated the rupture, and the painful reluctmice with which they came to it.

In pushing his doctrine to its extreme, Wesley came to entertain as a favorite doctrine, “the free, full, and present salvation from all the guilt, all the power, and all the inbeing of sin;” and knowing Whitefield to be at the opposite pole of Calvinistic predestination and decrees, he could not feel satisfied without writing to his old friend and disciple then in Georgia, upon both these subjects, who at this time, though he could yield to him upon neither, wished earnestly to avoid all dispute.

“My honored friend and brother,” said he in his reply, “for once hearken to a child who is willing to wash your feet. I beseech you, by the mercies of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, if you would have my love confirmed towards you, write no more to me about misrepresentations wherein we differ. To the best of my knowledge, at present no sin has dominion over me, yet I feel the stragglings of indwelling sin day by day. The doctrine of election, and the final perseverance of those who are in Christ, I am ten thousand times more convinced of, if possible, than when I saw you last. You think otherwise. Why then should we dispute, when there is no probability of convincing? Will it not, in the end, destroy brotherly love, and insensibly take from us that cordial luiion and sweetness of soul, which I pray God may always subsist between us? How glad would the enemies of the Lord be to see us divided! How many would rejoice, should I join and make a party agahist you! And, in one word, how would the cause of our common Master every way suffer, by our raising disputes about particular points of doctrine! Honored Sir, let us ofler salvation freely to all by the blood of Jesus; and whatever light God has communicated to us, let us freely communicate to others. I have lately read the life of Luther, and think it in no wise to his honor, that the last part of his life was so much taken up in disputing with Zuhiglius and others, who in all probability equally loved the Lord Jesus, though they might differ from him in other points. Let this, dear sir, be a caution to us; I hope it will to me; for, by the blessing of God, provoke me to it as much as you please, I do not think ever to enter the lists of controversy with you on the points wherein we differ. Only J pray to God, that the more you judge me, the more I may love you, and learn to desire no one’s approbation, but that of my Lord and Master, Jesus Christ.”

While such feelings do honor to Whitefield, he gradually came to feel on the other hand, that the honest avowal and niaintenance ol’tlie truth required him to overstep the courtesies of private friendship. Two months only after this letter was written, he followed it with another in a d iffercnt strahi. “Honored Sir,” it began, “I cannot entertain prejudices against your conduct and principles any longer without informing you. The more I examine the writings of the most experienced men, and the experience of the most established christians, the more I ditfer from your notions about committing sin, and your denying the doctrines of election and the final perseverance of the saints. I dread coming to England, unless you are resolved to oppose these truths with less warmth than when I was there last. I dread your coming over to America; because the work of God is carried on here, and that in a most glorious manner, by doctrines quite opposite to those you hold. God direct me what to do! Sometimes I think it is best to stay here, where all think and speak the same thing: the work goes on without divisions, and with more success, because all employed in it are of one mind. I write not this, honored sir, from heat of spirit, but of love. At present I iliink you are entirely inconsistent with yourself, and therefore do not blame me if I do not approve of all that you say. God himself, I find, teaches my friends the doctrine of election. Sister H. has lately been convinced of it; and, if I mistake not, dear and honored Mr. Wesley will be hereafter convinced also. Perhaps I may never see you again till we meet in judgment; then, if not before, you will know, that sovereign, distinguishing, irresistible grace brought you to heaven.” Wesley received this letter in a kindly spirit, and thanked him for it. “The case is quite plain,” he said in reply. “There are bigots both for predestination and against it. God is sending a message to those on either side, but neither will receive it unless from one who is of their own opinion. Therefore, for a time you are suffered to be of one opinion, and I of another. But when his time is come, God will do what men cannot, namely, make us both of one mind.” Soon afterwards Whitefield writes to one of his friends in England, “for Christ’s sake desire dear brother Wesley to avoid disputing with me. I think I had rather die than see a division between us; and yet how can we walk together, if we oppose each other?” And again to Wesley himself, he says, “for Christ’s sake, if possible, dear sir, never speak against election in your sermons; no one can say that I ever mentioned it in my public discourses, whatever my private sentiments may be. For Christ’s sake, let us not be divided amongst ourselves; nothing will so much prevent a division as your being silent on that head.”

While Whitefield from America was thus exhorting to forbearance from controversy, the (‘alvinislic Methodists in England were forcing on the separation which he deprecated, while lie foresaw. One of the leading members in London, byname A court, had introduced his disputed tenets, till Charles Wesley gave orders that he should no longer be admitted. John was present when next he presented himself, and demanded whether they refused admitting a person only because he differed from them in opinion. Wesley answered no, but asked what opinions he meant. He replied, “that of election. I hold that a certain number are elected from eternity, and these must and shall be saved, and the rest of mankind must and shall be damned.” And he affirmed that many of the society held the same; upon which Wesley observed that he never asked whether they did or not; “only let them not trouble others by disputing about it.” A court replied, “Nay, but I will dispute about it.” “Why then,” said Wesley, “would you come among us, who you know are of another mind.” “Because you are all wrong, and I am resolved to set you all right.” “I fear,” said Wesley, “your combig with this view would neither profit you nor us.” “Then,” rejoined A court, “I will go and tell all the world that you and your brother are false prophets. And I tell you in one fortnight you will all be in confusion.”

Some time before, Wesley had received a letter in which he was reproached for not preaching the gospel because he did not preach the doctrine of election. According to his usual practice at that time, instead of consulting with his friends, or even advising with himself upon the prudence of engaging in controversy, he dr-ew a lot for his direction, and the lot was, “preach and print.” So he preached a sermon against this doctrine, and printed it. Whitefield was then in England, and at his desire the publication was for a while suppressed; but it was sent into the world soon after his departure for America. The rising sect was thus disturbed by a question which had so often carried discord into the schools of theology, which had unhappily divided the Protestant world, and which, when it had risen in the bosom of the Catholic church, neither the Popes with their bulls, nor the Kings of France with their power, nor the Jesuits with all wisdom of the serpent, could either determine or lay to rest. Wesley had begun the discussion, but Whitefield persevered in it, when he would fain have pressed it no further; and he assumed a tone of superiority which Wesley was little likely to countenance. “Give me leave,” said he, “with all humility to exhort you not to be strenuous in opposing the doctrines of election and final perseverance, when by your own confession you have not the witness

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of the Spirit within yourself, and consequently are not a proper judge. I am assured God has now for some years given this living witness in my soul. I can say I have been on the borders of Canaan, and do every da)’-, nay almost every moment, long for the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, not to evade sufferings, but with a single desire to see his blessed face. I feel his blessed Spirit daily filling my soul and body, as plain as I feel the air which I breathe, or the food which 1 eat. Perhaps the doctrine of election and of final perseverencc has been abused, (and what doctrine has not?) but notwithstanding, it is children’s bread, and ought not in my opinion to be withheld from them, supposing it always mentioned with proper cautions against its abuse. Dear and honored sir, I write not this to enter into disputation. I hope at this time I feel something of the meekness and gentleness of Christ. I cannot bear the thoughts of opposing you: but how can I avoid it if you go about, as your brother Charles once said, to drive John Calvin out of Bristol? Alas, I never read any thing that Calvin wrote: my doctrines I. had from Christ and his apostles; I was taught them of God; and as God was pleased to send me out first, and to enlighten me first, so I think he still continues to do it. I wish I knew your principles fully; did you write oftener and more frankly, it might have a better effect than silence and reserve.”

Whitefield indeed partook so largely of the gifts and consolations of the Spirit, that it is no wonder that he should attribute his belief in this doctrine to that spiritual discernment which cometh only from above. The alternate frames of spiritual ecstacy and dejection through which he was made to pass, may be understood from the following among his recorded meditations. “I have now,” he says, “such large incomes from above, and such precious communications from our dear Lord Jesus, that my body sometimes can scarcely sustain them.” “I have a garden near at hand, where I go particularly to meet and talk with my God, at the cool of every day. I often sit in silence, offering my soul as so much clay, to be stamped just as my heavenly potter pleases; and whilst I am musing, I am often filled, as it were with the fullness of God. I am frequently at Calvary, and frequently on Mount Tabor, but always assured of my Lord’s everlasting love.” “Our dear Lord sweetly fills me with his presence. My heaven is begun indeed. I feast on the fatted calf. The Lord strengthens me mightily in the inner man.” At other times he “abhors” himself “in dust and ashes. He is “a worm and no man.” He “deserves to be the outcast of the people.” — “Why do so many of my Lord’s servants take notice of such a dead dog as I am?”

These heaven-ward impulses would often lead him to contemplate with perfect satisfaction the prospect of persecution, or even of martyrdom. “Dear brother,” he says to one of his American coadjutors, “both you and I must suffer, and that, great things before we enter into glory. My work is scarce begun; my trials are yet to come. What is a little scourge of the tongue? What is a thrusting out of the synagogues’? The time of temptation will be when we are thrust into an inner prison, and feel the iron entering even into our souls. Then perhaps even God’s people may be permitted to forsake us for a while, and none but the Lord Jesus to stand by us. But if thou, O dearest Redeemer, wilt strengthen me in the inner man, let enemies plunge me into a fiery furnace, or throw me into a den of lions!” And he writes as if he were realizing the fact that persecuting rulers were again about to employ lions’ dens and burning fiery furnaces! “I am now looking,” he says, “for some strong attacks from Satan.” “Let us suffer for Jesus with a cheerful heart! His love will sweeten every cup, though never so bitter. Let us pledge him willingly, and continue faithful even to death! A scene of sufferings lies before us. Who knows but we may wade to our Savior through a sea of blood? I expect (O pray that I may be strengthened if called to it!) to die for his great name’s sake. ‘Twill be sweet to wear a martyr’s crown.” “Suffer we must, I believe, and that, great things. Our Lord by his providence begins to show it. Ere long perhaps we may sing in a prison, and have our feet set fast in the stocks. But faith in Jesus turns a prison into a palace, and makes a bed of flames become a bed of down.”

This was safe boasting; and yet if Whitefield had lived in an age of persecution his metal would have borne to be tried in the flames. The temper from which it arose made him as ready now to stand up in opposition to Wesley, as he had formerly been to follow him. “I am sorry,” he says to him, “honored sir, to hear by many letters, that you seem to own a sinless perfection in this life attainable. I think I cannot answer you better than a venerable old minister in these parts answered a Quaker, ’ bring me a man that hath really arrived to this, and I will pay his expenses let him come from whence he will.’ Besides, dear sir, what a fond conceit is it to cry up perfection, and yet cry down the doctrine of final perseverance? But this and many other absurdities you will run into, because you will not own election: and you will not own election because you cannot own it without believing the doctrine of reprobation. What then is there in reprobation so horrid?”

Whitefield continued, “Oh that you would be more cautious in casting lots! Oh that you would not be too rash and precipitant! If you go on thus, honored sir, how can I concur with you? It is impossible. I must speak what I know. Thus I write out of the fullness of my heart, I feel myself to be a vile sinner. I look to Christ. I mourn because I have pierced him. Honored sir, pray for me. The Lord be with your dear soul.” The same week produced a letter in a higher tone of rebuke: “Dear brother Wesley, what mean you by disputing in all you letters? May God give you to know yourself, and then you will not plead for absolute perfection, or call the doctrine of election a doctrine of devils. My dear brother, take heed! See that you are in Christ a new creature! Beware of a false peace: strive to enter in at the strait gate; and give all diligence to make your calling and election sure: remember you are but a babe in Christ, if so much! Be humble, talk little, think and pray much. Let God teach you, and he will lead you into all truth. If you must dispute, stay till you are master of the subject; otherwise you will hurt the cause you would defend.” And in a subsequent letter he says, “Oh dear sir, many of God’s children are grieved at your principles! Oh that God may give you a sight of his free, sovereign, and electing love! But no more of this. Why will you compel me to write thus? Why will you dispute? I am willing to go with you to prison and to death; but I am not willing to oppose you.” And again, “Oh that there may be harmony and very intimate union between us, yet it cannot be, since you hold universal redemption. The devil rages in London. He begins now to triumph indeed. The children of God are disunited among themselves. My dear brother, for Christ’s sake avoid all disputation! Do not oblige me to preach against you: I had rather die.”

He soon, however, began to fear that he had been sinfully silent. The children of God, he thought, were in danger of falling into error: many who had been worked upon by his ministry had been misled, and more were calling loudly upon him to show his opinion also. “I must then show,” said he, “that I know no man after the flesh, and that I have no respect to persons any further than is consistent with my duty to my Lord and Master.” And therefore he took pen in hand to write against Wesley, protesting that Jonah could not go with more reluctance against Nineveh.* “Were nature to speak,” said he “I had rather die than do it; and yet if I am faithful to God, and to my own and other’s souls, I must not stand neuter any longer.” In this letter Whitefield related

* The reader will find this most labored of Whitefield’s extant writings in the after part of the volume.

how Wesley had preaclicd and printed his obnoxious sermon, ill consequence of drawing a lot. The conclusion however is remarkable for the honest confidence and the warmth of affection which it breathes.

That this letter was intended for publication is certain; but there seems to have been a hope in Whitefield’s mind that the effect which its perusal would produce might render publication needless. His friends in London, however, thought proper to print it, without either his permission or Wesley’s, and copies were distributed at the door of the Foundry, and in the meeting itself. Wesley holding one in his hand stated to the congregation the fact of its surreptitious pubhcation, and t?ien saying, “I Vvall do just what I believe th:. Whitefield would were he here himself,” he tore it in pieces. Every person present followed his example; and Wesley, in reference to the person by whose means these unlucky copies had been circulated, exclaims in his Journal, “Ah poor Ahitophel! Ibi omnis effusus labor.’”

The person v.dio seems to have been most active in enforcing Calvinism in opposition to Wesley at this time was the Rev. John Cennick,* whom he employed at Kingswood in the

*” The Rev. John Cennick was one of Whitefield’s most popular and useful fellow-laborers. He possessed a sweet simplicity of spirit, with an ardent zeal in the cause of his Divine Master. On the 4th of July, 1755, his happy spirit took its flight to the mansions of bliss, to enjoy, through eternal ages, uninterrupted communion and fellowship with a triune Jehovah, reconciled in Christ Jesus, after he had passed a life of thirty-five years, in this world of sin and sorrow.

Mr. Cennick was rather below the middle stature, of a fair countenance, but of a fairer mind. A good understanding, an open temper, and a tender heart characterized the man. His christian qualities were not less remarkable. If vmaffected humility, deadness to the world, a life of communion with God, and a cheerful reliance on a crucified Savior, constitute the real christian, he was one in an eminent degree. Nor were the evidence of his call to the ministry less striking. Few ministers have felt a warmer love to Jesus Christ; few were more unwearied in preaching his gospel; few triumphed more in his cross, or suffered more patiently in his cause. As to success in his labors, perhaps there was not one in his day, except Mr. Whitefield, more highly honored in this particular. ‘Tis true, his language was not with the enticing words of man’s wisdom; yet his doctrine and address were powerful, and found access to the hearts of thousands. The gospel he so diligently and faithfully dispensed, was the food of his own soul. He drank deeply of the cup of religious pleasures. His altar was not to an unknown God; he exalted not a Savior whose virtues he had never proved; he pointed not to a spirit, under whose almighty influence he had not lived; he directed not to a heaven, the happiness of which he had not anticipated. His career was short; but if life may be estimated, by the comparative quantity of good produced in it, then this truly active, spiritual, and useful man, may be said to have lived to a good old age.

Where, on this side heaven, can a more enviable person be fotind, than he whose mind is thus furnished; whose soul is thus enriched; whose lips thus drop sweetness; whose life is thus devoted; whose services are thus blessed 1 He may not have moved in the circles of the great; he may not have ranked with characters of literary fame; he may not be able to trace his pedigree school which Whitefield had designed for the children of colliers. “Whitefield had collected some money for this good work, and had performed the ceremony of laying the foundation; but further than this ceremony it had not proceeded when he embarked the second time for America, and left it to be carried forward by Wesley. There was the great difficulty of want of money in the way; but this was a difficulty which faith would remove, and in faith AVesley began building without having a quarter of the sum necessary for finishing it. But he foimd persons who were willing to advance money if he would become responsible for the debt; the responsibility and the property thus devolved upon him, and he immediately made his will, bequeathing it to his brother Charles and Whitefield. Two masters were provided as soon as the house was fit to receive them, and IMr. Cennick was one. He was not in holy orders, but the practice of lay preaching which had at first been vehemently opposed by the Wesleys, had now become inevitably a part of their system, and Mr. Cennick, who had great talents for popular speaking, labored also as one of these helpers, as they were called. He in his horror against the doctrines of the Wesleys wrote urgently to Whitefield, calling upon him to hasten from America that he might stay the plague. “I sit,” said he, “solitary like Eli, waiting what will become of the ark; and while I wail and fear the carrying of it away from among my people, my trouble increases daily. How glorious did the gospel seem once to flourish in Kingswood! I spake of the everlasting love of Christ with sweet power. But now brother Charles is sufiered to open his mouth against this truth, while the afirighted sheep gaze and fly, as if no shepherd were among them. It is just as if Satan were now making war with the saints in a more than common way. Oh! pray for the distressed lambs yet left in this place, that they faint not! Surely they would if preaching would do it, for they have nothing whereon to rest, who now attended on the sermons, but their own faithfulness. With universal redemption brother Charles pleases the world. Brother John follows him in every thing. I believe no Atheist can more preach against predestination than they; and all who believe election are counted enemies to God, and called so. Fly dear brother! I am alone, — I am in the midst of the plague! If God give thee leave, make haste!”

through families of noble blood; he may not have soared on the wings of philosophic pursuits; but he has pierced the clouds; he has explored the celestial regions, he has presented its delicious fruits, and invited us to arise and possess the land. “O my soul, come thou into his secret, into his assembly mine honor be thou imited!” — See Life of the Rev. John Cennick, by the Rev. Matthew WiOcs, prefixed to his Sermons.

A copy of this letter came into Wesley’s hands, and it stung him, because he said the writer was “one I had sent for to assist me, a friend that was as my own soul, that even while he opposed me lay in my bosom.” Charles in consequence addressed a letter to him which forcibly expresses the feeling of the two brothers upon having one of their disciples thus rise against them. “You came to Kingswood,” says he, “upon my brother’s sending for you. You served under him in the gospel as a son, I need not say how well he loved you. You used the authority he gave you to overthrow his doctrine. You every where contradicted it, (whether true or false is not the question.) But you ought first to have fairly told him, ‘I preach contrary to you: are you willing, notwithstanding, that I should continue in your house, gainsaying you? If you are not, I have no place in these regions. You have a right to this open dealing. I now give you fair warning. Shall I stay here opposing you, or shall I depart T My brother, have you dealt thus honestly and openly with him? No. But you have stolen away the people’s hearts from him. And when some of them basely treated their best friend, God only accepted, how patiently did you take it! When did you ever vindicate us as we have you? Why did you not plainly tell them, you are eternally indebted to these men? ‘Think not that I will stay among you to head a party against my dearest friend and brother, as he suffers me to call him, having humbled himself for my sake, and given me, no bishop, priest, or deacon, the right hand of fellowship. If I hear that one word more is spoken against him, I will leave you that moment.’ This had been just and honest, and not more than we have deserved at your hands.”

This was put into John Wesley’s hands that he might deliver it to Mr. Cennick if he thought proper. But matters had proceeded so far that Mr. Cennick was forming a separate society, and Wesley deemed it better to speak to him and his adherents publicly and reprove them for inveighing against him behind his back. One of them replied, that they had said no more of him behind his back than they would say to his face, which was that he preached false doctrine; — he preached that there is righteousness in man. “So,” says Wesley, “there is, after the righteousness of Christ is imputed to him through faith. But who told you that what we preached was false doctrine? Whom would you have believed this from, but Mr. Cennick?” Mr. Cennick then boldly answered, “You do preach righteousness in man. I did say this, and I say it still. However, we are willing to join with you; but we will also meet apart from you; for we meet to confirm one another in those truths which you speak against.” Wesley rephcd, “You should have told me this before, and not have su])planted me in my own house, stealing the hearts of the people, and by private accusations separating very friends.”

By mutual agreement the meeting was adjourned a week, and when they re-assembled, Mr. Cennick and his friends were surprised to find themselves arraigned by Mr. Wesley as follows: “By many witnesses it appears that several members of the Band Society in Kingswood have made it their common practice, to scoff at the preaching of Mr. John and. Charles Wesley; that they have censured and spoken evil of them behind their backs, at the very time they professed love and esteem to their faces; that they have studiously endeavored to prejudice other members of that society against them, and in order thereto, have belied and slandered them in divers instances; therefore, not for their opinions, nor for any of them, (whether they be right or wrong) but for the causes above-mentioned, viz. for their scoffing at the word and ministers of God, for their tale-bearing, back-biting, and evil speaking, for their dissembling, lying, and slandering; I, John Wesley, by the consent and approbation of the Band Society in Kingswood, do declare the persons above mentioned to be no longer members thereof. Neither will they be so accounted until they shall openly confess their fault, and thereby do what in them lies to remove the scandal they have given.”

Having come prepared for a discussion of their opinions and conduct, they were astonished at hearing themselves thus exconmiunicated. As soon as they recovered from their surprise they affirmed that they had heard both him and his brother preach popery many times. However, they were still willing to join with them, but they would not own that they had done any thing amiss. Wesley desired them to consider upon it yet again, but finding after another week had elapsed that they still refused to acknowledge that they had been in the wrong, he once more assembled the bands, and told them that every one must now take his chance and quit one society or the other. One of the Calvinistic leaders observed, that the true reason of his separating from them was because they held the doctrine of election. Wesley made answer, “You know in your own conscience it is not. There are several predestinarians in our societies both at London and Bristol; nor did I ever yet put any one out of either, because he held that opinion.” They then offered to break up their society, provided he would receive and employ Mr. Cennick as he had done before. To this Wesley replied, “My brother has wronged me much: but he doth not say I repent.” Mr. Cennick made answer, “Unless in not speaking in your defense I do not know that I have wronged you at all.” “It seems then,” says Wesley, “nothing remains but for each to choose which society he pleases.”

At this time Whitefield was on the way from America. While upon the passage he wrote to Charles Wesley, expostulating with him and his brother, in strong but atfectionatc terms. “My dear, dear brethren,” said he, “why did you throw out the bone of contention? Why did you print that sermon against predestination? Why did you in particular, niy dear brother Charles, affix your hymn, and join in putting out your late hjann book ‘I How can you say you will not dispute with me about election, and yet print such hymns, and your brother send his sermon against election over to America? Do not you think, my dear brethren, I must be as much concerned for truth, or what I think truth, as you 7 God is my judge, I always was, and hope I always shall be, desirous that you may be preferred before me. But I must preach the gospel of Christ, and that I cannot iioic do without speaking of election.” He then informed Charles, that one copy of his answer to the sermon was printing at Charleston; that another had been sent to Boston for the same purpose; and that he was bringing a copy to be printed in London. “If,” said he, “it occasion a strangeness between us, it shall not be my fault. There is nothing in my answer exciting to it that I know of. O my dear brethren, my heart almost bleeds within me! Methinks I could be willing to tarry here on the waters forever, rather than come to England to oppose you.” But although, when he was thus addressing the Wesleys, the feelings of old friendship returned upon him, his other letters, written during the voyage, evince that he looked on a separation as the certain consequence of this difference in opinion. “Great perils,” he says, “await me; but Jesus Christ will send his angel, and roll away every stone of difficulty.” “My Lord’s command now, I believe, is, ‘Take the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines, for our vines have tender grapes.’ Help me by your prayers; it is an ease thus to unbosom myself to a friend. I have sought the Lord by prayer and fasting, and he assures me that he will be with me; whom then should I fear?” “The Lord is girding me for the battle, and strengthening me mightily in the inner man.”

In this state of mind he reached London, Charles Wesley was there, and their meeting was affectionate. “It would have melted any heart,” says Whitefield, “to have heard us weeping after prayer, that, if possible, the breach might be prevented.” Old feelings of respect and love revived with such strength in his heart, that he promised never to preach against

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the Wcsloys, whatever his private ojMiiioii luicrhl be. But many things coiubincd to sour hiui at this time. He had written against Archbishop Tillolsoi/s works, and the whole Duty of Man, a book in those days of unrivalled popularity, in a maimer which he himself then felt to be mjudicious; and this had offended persons, who were otherwise favorably disposed towards him. His celebrity also seemed to have passed away; the twenty thousands who used to assemble at his preaching had dwindled down to two or three hundred; and in one exhibition at Kennington common, the former scene of his triumphs, scarcely a hundred were gathered together to hear him. Worldly anxieties, too, were fretting him, and those of a kind which made the loss of his celebrity a serious evil. The Orphan-house in Georgia was to be maintained: he had now nearly a hundred persons in that establishment, who were to be supported by his exertions: there were not the slightest funds provided, and Georgia was the dearest part of the British dominions. He was above a thousand pounds in debt upon that score, and he himself not worth twenty. Seward, the wealthiest and most attached of his disciples, was dead, and had made no provision for him, nor for the payment of a heavy bill on the Orphan-house account, which he had drawn, and for which Whitefield was now responsible, and. threatened with an arrest. He called it truly a trying time: “Many, very many of my spiritual children,” says he, “who, at my last departure from England, would have plucked out their own eyes for me, are so prejudiced by the dear Messrs. Wesleys dressing up the doctrine of election in such horrible colors, that they will neither hear, see nor give me the least assistance; yea, some of them send threatening letters that God will speedily destroy me.” This folly on the part of Wesley’s adherents irritated him, and that irritation was fomented by his own feelings; and when Wesley, who had been summoned by his brother Charles to London on this occasion, went to him, to see if the breach might yet be closed, Whitefield honestly told him, that they preached two different gospels, and therefore he not only would not join with him, or give him the right hand of fellowship, but’ would publicly preach against him wheresoever he preached at all. He was reminded of the promise which he had but a few days before made, that whatever his opinion might be he would not do this: but he replied, that promise was only an effect of human weakness, and he was now of another mind.

Thus was the breach consummated between these co-workers with Christ; who, in a more confined sense, may be said to have now ceased being- co-workers with each other.